


Drift

by Parasitikos



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, Multi, Polyamorous Character, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:47:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21614050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Parasitikos/pseuds/Parasitikos
Summary: Reliquary-23 goes missing and no one's happy about it. Unsure of his fate, The Speaker organizes a rescue fireteam while The Drifter fights the Speaker to help in whatever way he can.
Relationships: Ghost/Male Guardian (Destiny), Male Guardian/Speaker (Destiny), The Drifter/Male Guardian (Destiny), fallen oc/male guardian
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	Drift

**Author's Note:**

> hrrrgh i've never done anything that's more than one chapter so heaves here we go. I haven't done any editing yet so bear with me

"Well now, you're a rare sight down here in the annex." The Drifter smiled, all teeth, "How'ya livin', Speaker? Here for some Gambit?" There was an uncomfortable silence that followed and the Speaker's regret in coming down here was palpable.

"When was the last you heard from Reliquary?"

"Three days ago." He replied smoothly, then his smile dropped, "Why?"

The Speaker did not want to tell him. He didn't trust him farther than he could throw him. He served a purpose, for now, and thus he tolerated his presence in the City. And at the end of the day, Reliquary...well, he didn't trust him, but he gave him the benefit of the doubt. The Speaker could at least match that.

"He's missing." There's nothing the Drifter could do to hide how the colour drained from his face. He laughed, tried to play it cool, but he quickly abandoned that and gave in to something genuine.

"He's _what_?" He shouted, snapped, growled, words knives lashing at the Speaker. He didn't flinch. "Where was his last—

"Saturn." He cut him off with the answer, but his explanation came slower, reluctant, "His last point of contact was on the Dreadnaught." The Drifter swore and immediately tried to shoulder past The Speaker, who did not allow him passage. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm going after him." He said as if it was obvious. Like he was offended that the Speaker even asked. He was and it was mutual. The disgust that rolled off of The Speaker at his statement was palpable.

"You will just be in the way." He said even, measured, vicious, "You're not qualified for something like this." At that The Drifter grabbed The Speaker by his collar. Reflexively, The Speaker grabbed his hand, squeezed it tight, dug his nails in, but The Drifter didn't even notice. 

"You don't know a damn thing about what I'm capable of."

"I know that you are little more than a coward and a conman, Drifter, who's never done a selfless thing in his life. You? Rescue my best guardian? No, you will stay here and you will wait. The Guardians— the _real_ guardians —will look for him." The Speaker ripped The Drifter's hand from his headscarf. In all his thoughts of how this situation might turn out, he never expected The Drifter to respond so earnestly, so emotionally. Reliquary had a way of digging people's hearts out from behind their walls, but the heart had no place here. He had a job to do, a responsibility, and a rogue guardian of questionable morality blinded by his fear would only bring disaster. He would not be allowed to leave Earth, he would make sure of it. Determined to act sooner rather than later, he turned to leave.

"Your 'guardian?' What about your 'husband?' Do you even intend to bring him back alive," The Drifter screamed after him as The Speaker walked away, "Or are you just going to bring home his corpse!" And then the Speaker did not pause, did not hesitate in that moment to turn, walk back up to The Drifter, and slap him so hard that he staggered at its force on his cheek. He then snatched him by his jaw before he could recover and forced him upright and off balance. He squeezed so tight that The Drifter thought he might break.

"If you think I would abandon my friend, the love of my life, my _husband_ —" He shouted and roared, but then he remembered himself and confined himself to a hissing snarl, "You don't know a damn thing about me or the lengths I would go to bring him home safe." He let him go with a shove and briskly turned to leave. The Drifter swore as he stumbled and caught himself on the railing. He rubbed his jaw and in a broken shard of mirror on his table he could see the bruises The Speaker had given him. He swore again, then pulled out his Ghost. 

Transmat took an instant, but it was instant too long when The Drifter was in a foul mood and Reliquary's life might very well be on the line. Three days. Three _days_. He hadn't thought much of it at first. It wasn't unusual for Reliquary to drop out of contact with him, but to drop out of contact with _everyone?_ No one had heard from him, he'd gone completely dark, and that was unusual. The moment his feet were on the ground of the derelict, he was walking to the bridge's command console. The console was working just fine, but when he went to turn on the engines there was no response. Not a hum, not a blip. Silence. "That scheming sack of shit!" He shouted, kicking the base of the console, "Ghost, figure out what that damn Speaker did to the engines, _now._ " He paced, anxious and angry, while his ghost ran diagnostics. When he reported the results, The Drifter swore he'd kill The Speaker at least once to get back at him for this.


End file.
